The Shark Whisperer (23 page)

The security man also tried to pull out his gun, but the birds had aimed well. The firearm kept slipping in his grasp due to a heavy coating of poop and slime. “Darn it! This stuff is disgusting.”

The two men readying to depart on Jet Skis were not the main targets of the air assault, but they too were trying to de-goo themselves. When they heard the splash from the campers jumping overboard and got the radio call, they quickly started the Jet Skis' engines. At that very moment, however, another team was preparing to go on the attack.

The flying fish swam fast to build up speed. They leapt out of the water, stretched their fins out wide, and used their tails as rudders. The eight-inch, silvery fish glided low, swift, and silently over the water's surface. One after another they flew in attack formation toward the yacht's stern. Three fish hit their target in quick succession, pummeling one of the men in the
face and chest. He was knocked squarely off his Jet Ski. The other man must have been good at tennis or squash because he was able to swat the flying fish away like giant mosquitoes.

The diver that remained upright readied his Jet Ski to go after the teen escapees. But just as he was getting underway, a dolphin leapt up and head-butted him in the chest knocking him into the water. Both men were now treading water and attempting to get back on their Jet Skis. Abruptly, they started swiveling around, eyes wide. They turned in great haste and swam, arms flailing, to the yacht's dive platform. Once there, the men literally flung themselves out of the water and scrambled up to the back deck.

One of the security men was there when they arrived. “Get back in there. What are you doing? Go after those kids!”

“No frickin way. You want to go in there? Be my guest,” one of the divers replied bent over, breathing heavily, and pointing to the water behind the ship.

The security guard took a step down toward the dive platform and stopped short. At least ten six-foot long sharks were circling in the water behind the yacht. One shark swam to the wooden dive platform, opened its mouth wide, and bit down. Its glassy black eyes stared at Rickerton's man. The shark proceeded to gnaw, chew, and chomp on the wood, putting its razor-sharp teeth very visibly on display. Along with the sharks, at least twenty barracuda and several large squid hovered nearby in the water. And every once in awhile, big pink jellyfish drifted by.

The divers and security man backed away from the ship's stern.

“Get in the water. Go after them,” a voice on the diver's radio ordered.

They all shook their heads. “No way!”

While the sea creatures kept the divers out of the water, birds periodically dove from the sky for follow-up bombing runs. Jade, Rusty, and Rory swam to the back of the small boat where Coach Fred, Ms. Sanchez, and the younger teens were waiting.

“Ms. Sanchez, get the anchor if you would,” Coach Fred instructed. “And you all get ready to help them in at the stern.”

Tristan didn't hesitate. As soon as he saw the campers in the water, he jumped in to assist them. Sam and Hugh helped at the stern. Once everyone was aboard, Coach Fred started the engine, put it into gear, and headed south away from the yacht. He called the director on the radio to assure him everyone was safe and that they were on their way back to the cave.

“Uh, Coach, you better take a look at this,” Tristan said staring back at the yacht.

The top deck was bustling with activity.

Ms. Sanchez picked up a pair of binoculars. “They're lowering a fast patrol boat and Rickerton's got a helicopter up there.”

“Time for my little presents,” Coach Fred said.
He pulled a small black box out of his pocket. It had a red light, switch, and button on it. He flicked the switch. The light turned green. He looked at the yacht, grinned, and pushed the button. “Here's to you, Mr. J.P. Rickerton.”

There was a deep double thump and the water around the yacht seemed to shiver.

“Did it work?” Ms. Sanchez asked.

“Don't worry, in a few minutes they'll be too busy to come after us,” Coach answered confidently.

Tristan wasn't so sure. Whatever Coach Fred had done, it didn't seem to be working quickly enough. The patrol boat was already in the water with one of the divers aboard and two other men were about to climb in. Then he noticed that the ship was leaning. Its right side was lower in the water than the left. There was a flurry of activity. Men started yelling. Black smoke began billowing out from inside the ship. As the dark smoke rose, it passed over a giant red “R” painted on the side of the yacht.

Coach Fred slowed the boat. They were about to head east through a channel south of Glover's Cay toward the open ocean and the seaward side of Stanley's Neck. Once they made the turn east, they'd lose sight of the yacht.

“Looks like my special delivery did the job,” Coach Fred said proudly. “Had the dolphins place the explosives on the underside of the boat so that water would flow in fast. No way their pumps can handle it. And our friends put a nice seaweed plug in the water intake,
just in case the captain tries to run the ship aground to save her. That baby's going down.”

As they watched, the yacht sank lower in the water listing heavily. The helicopter had powered up and was trying to take off, but the deck was tilting at a precarious angle. They heard several blasts of a horn as the yacht's captain blew the abandon ship signal. Aboard the small patrol boat the men were now busy getting the rest of the crew off the doomed ship.

Coach Fred smiled, pushed the throttle forward, and headed east. They rounded the northern tip of Stanley's Neck, turned south and aimed for the shallow approach to the cave about halfway down the narrow island. Coach decreased their speed as they entered the treacherous channel before the tunnel. A loud thumping sound drew their attention skyward. They couldn't see it, but everyone knew what it was—Rickerton's helicopter. And it was headed their way fast.

“No time to take it slow,” Coach said, pushing the throttle forward. “Hold on everyone.”

The boat bucked and shot forward. Coach Fred steered like a mad man, twisting the wheel, zigzagging around and over the rocks and coral. Before he could raise the propeller, they felt a solid bump accompanied by a loud
thunk
. The boat slowed. Coach shook his head and swore. The tunnel into the cave was only a few feet away, but the helicopter was nearly on top of them. It was going to be close. They all held their breath and ducked. Just as they entered the tunnel, the helicopter passed overhead.

“Do you think they saw us?” Tristan asked.

“Let's hope not,” Ms. Sanchez said.

“And let's hope the propeller isn't too badly damaged,” Coach added.

Once inside the cavern, they docked next to the other boat where Director Davis, Ryder, and Rosina waited anxiously.

“What happened?” Ryder asked.

“You should have seen the birds—whomped 'em good with stinky poop and slime! And then the flying fish hit and the sharks were awesome,” Tristan told him.

“Who's in the helicopter? Did they see you?” Director Davis asked.

“Rickerton had a fast boat and helicopter on the upper deck,” Coach Fred answered more sedately than Tristan. “He was able to take off pretty quickly in the bird. But I think we made it in before they saw us.”

Director Davis radioed Mr. M back at the lab to tell him what had happened. He also asked him to keep an eye out and listen to the radio to see if he could learn what Rickerton and his crew were doing. Coach Fred examined the damage to the outboard engine's propeller, while Ms. Sanchez fussed over Jade, Rory, and Rusty, giving each of them a bottle of Sea Camp water. The three campers were exhausted, hungry and a bit dehydrated, but other than some bumps and bruises they were okay.

“Great job, everyone,” Director Davis said. “Way to go.”

Jade looked guiltily at the director. “I'm really sorry. It was my fault we got caught. I just thought if we could confirm that it was the same ship, it would help. And then when we saw them unloading the shark fins. I wanted to get close enough to take photos.”

“Now is not the time, Jade,” Director Davis said. “We'll discuss this once we are safely back at camp. Right now we need to get back to the lab without being spotted by that helicopter, boat, and whatever or whoever else is still out there.”

17

OVERBOARD!

R
ICKERTON HAD BEEN IN A VILE MOOD ALL WEEK
. He'd yet to find the wreck of the
Santa Viento
, a Spanish galleon he'd spent years searching for. Now
Bigger is Better
, his most favored of yachts, was sitting on the seafloor under some twenty feet of seawater. The ship would be salvageable, but most of its valuable contents and instrumentation would be lost, ruined beyond repair. He had the captain mark the sunken yacht's position with a buoy and noted its position on the GPS. He then sent the captain and most of the crew to Great Exuma on the fast boat. They would make arrangements to secure the additional men and equipment needed to raise the yacht and haul it to a boatyard for repair. Rickerton left two divers on Jet Skis to guard the site and search for the escaped brats and the boat that had helped them.

Rickerton nodded to the helicopter pilot and pointed to his microphone, mouthing the word “radio.”

“Go ahead, sir,” the pilot said.

“Captain Brandon, this is Rickerton,” he said into the microphone on his headset.

“Yes, sir. Captain Brandon here,” a voice came back.

“Where are you?”

“Sir, we should arrive in Great Exuma in about twenty minutes.”

“Did you see any sign of those kids or that boat?”

“No sir, nothing.”

“Okay, I'm going to take one more pass around, then head to Great Exuma to fuel up. Radio the divers on the Jet Skis and tell them to keep looking. I'll be back in the area soon. I want them found!”

“Yes sir, will do.”

Rickerton shut off the radio and pounded his fist on his knee. He looked out the helicopter window to the blue water below. His favorite yacht was underwater and it would cost him a fortune to salvage and repair it. Not only that, his search for the
Santa Viento
had been put on hold for who knew how long. The look on his face said it all—whoever was responsible would pay
dearly
.