followed Ian to the foredeck. His smile vanished in an instant when he grasped the cause of his helmsman’s concern. Ten yards out, a long moving gray sheen curled back on itself. A second dorsal fin trimmed the surface, moving in the opposite direction.
Sharks ? Aloud he asked, “What do you make of them?”
“ Not sure yet. Been keepin’ their distance.”
The creatures swam broad circles around the orange buoys, marking the north quadrant dive zone. Suddenly, a third conical snout came into view.
"Whites!" Chase announced, his suspicion clearly vouched. The astounding sight was beyond his cognition. The clan leader appeared to be coming straight at them, systematically lifting its head as if spying its prey. By Chase’s best estimate, the agitated creatures were between twelve and fourteen feet in length and more than curious.
Ian scratched his oily scalp before replacing his grungy cap. "Jaysus, I was only jokin’ bout the pip.”
Hunting grounds for Pacific sharks were a good six miles away – south of the jetty and near the dilapidated dock where harbor seals and sea lions were known to collect. The Coast Guard had cited the area as off bounds, and as a result, all the dive boats from San Palo kept their distance. All of them except Red Star Charters . Aaron Birch and his reckless crew made a practice of dumping chum for photo ops to earn larger tips from wealthy tourists – an illegal and highly dangerous practice.
The thought churned Chase’s stomach. "You haven’t seen Burch today, have you? Those idiots could be anywhere out here."
Ian shook his head. “Not even a dingy. No tellin’ what’s got ‘em riled.”
The sharks made another pass, skirting their hull, before diving and passing beneath. As quickly as they appeared, they vanished from view, leaving only one explanation behind. With no apparent food source or noticeable threat, the creatures had to have been drawn by the electrical fields Alegria was generating.
Chase raked his fingers through his hair and squeezed the back of his neck, debating on how to proceed.
” Best be shuttin’ her down,” Ian suggested.
With nature at odds with them, Chase had to have faith in A.J.’s confirmation. He stared out to sea and offered a silent prayer. “Take her home,” he told Ian.
With Alegria’s aft anchors pulled, Ian made his way to the helm. Chase finished stowing his gear just as the winds kicked up. He snagged a shirt out of the master cabin and returned to the galley to look in on A.J.
"Any luck?" he asked.
Reference books were scattered on the small table and A.J. appeared to be totally engrossed in the largest volume. His scribbled notes completely covered a pad of paper.
"Nothing firm," he reported. "No mistake it’s Chinese, just can’t pinpoint the province or exact date. It's unlike anything previously found. But don't worry, captain. I have enough information here to get us a temporary claim."
"Not good enough,” Chase said. “Temporary means nothing. Especially with the Legend breathing down our backs." He could feel the rise under the hull, the breeze pushing Alegria into a slow drift. Ian had already fired up the engines and was attempting to bring her about. Chase had to make a quick decision. Say something he wouldn’t later regret. “We’re not going anywhere,” he announced.
Chase was on his way to the bridge to delay Ian’s progress, when Blaine appeared from above.
"According to Gotheborg.com,” he said, “what you’ve got there is a Ming globular jar. It’s dated somewhere between 1573 and 1620 and definitely an Imperial piece. Would have had an answer sooner, but that damn spicy fish Ian made for lunch and the constant rocking gave me the worst stomach ache I’ve ever had in my –" He covered his mouth and ran for the closest head.
"Yes!" Chase’s fist punched the air. He bounded up the ladder to join his helmsman. "Full speed ahead," he charged.
Nothing was going to stop him now. Not the
Sharks ? Aloud he asked, “What do you make of them?”
“ Not sure yet. Been keepin’ their distance.”
The creatures swam broad circles around the orange buoys, marking the north quadrant dive zone. Suddenly, a third conical snout came into view.
"Whites!" Chase announced, his suspicion clearly vouched. The astounding sight was beyond his cognition. The clan leader appeared to be coming straight at them, systematically lifting its head as if spying its prey. By Chase’s best estimate, the agitated creatures were between twelve and fourteen feet in length and more than curious.
Ian scratched his oily scalp before replacing his grungy cap. "Jaysus, I was only jokin’ bout the pip.”
Hunting grounds for Pacific sharks were a good six miles away – south of the jetty and near the dilapidated dock where harbor seals and sea lions were known to collect. The Coast Guard had cited the area as off bounds, and as a result, all the dive boats from San Palo kept their distance. All of them except Red Star Charters . Aaron Birch and his reckless crew made a practice of dumping chum for photo ops to earn larger tips from wealthy tourists – an illegal and highly dangerous practice.
The thought churned Chase’s stomach. "You haven’t seen Burch today, have you? Those idiots could be anywhere out here."
Ian shook his head. “Not even a dingy. No tellin’ what’s got ‘em riled.”
The sharks made another pass, skirting their hull, before diving and passing beneath. As quickly as they appeared, they vanished from view, leaving only one explanation behind. With no apparent food source or noticeable threat, the creatures had to have been drawn by the electrical fields Alegria was generating.
Chase raked his fingers through his hair and squeezed the back of his neck, debating on how to proceed.
” Best be shuttin’ her down,” Ian suggested.
With nature at odds with them, Chase had to have faith in A.J.’s confirmation. He stared out to sea and offered a silent prayer. “Take her home,” he told Ian.
With Alegria’s aft anchors pulled, Ian made his way to the helm. Chase finished stowing his gear just as the winds kicked up. He snagged a shirt out of the master cabin and returned to the galley to look in on A.J.
"Any luck?" he asked.
Reference books were scattered on the small table and A.J. appeared to be totally engrossed in the largest volume. His scribbled notes completely covered a pad of paper.
"Nothing firm," he reported. "No mistake it’s Chinese, just can’t pinpoint the province or exact date. It's unlike anything previously found. But don't worry, captain. I have enough information here to get us a temporary claim."
"Not good enough,” Chase said. “Temporary means nothing. Especially with the Legend breathing down our backs." He could feel the rise under the hull, the breeze pushing Alegria into a slow drift. Ian had already fired up the engines and was attempting to bring her about. Chase had to make a quick decision. Say something he wouldn’t later regret. “We’re not going anywhere,” he announced.
Chase was on his way to the bridge to delay Ian’s progress, when Blaine appeared from above.
"According to Gotheborg.com,” he said, “what you’ve got there is a Ming globular jar. It’s dated somewhere between 1573 and 1620 and definitely an Imperial piece. Would have had an answer sooner, but that damn spicy fish Ian made for lunch and the constant rocking gave me the worst stomach ache I’ve ever had in my –" He covered his mouth and ran for the closest head.
"Yes!" Chase’s fist punched the air. He bounded up the ladder to join his helmsman. "Full speed ahead," he charged.
Nothing was going to stop him now. Not the
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