The Shark Whisperer (29 page)

“He's up and away, heading your way,” a voice reported from a radio on the director's belt.

Director Davis responded, “Roger that. Missing campers are back, safe and sound. Over.”

“See you shortly.”

They heard Rickerton's helicopter before they saw it. It flew over from the runway, made a pass by the dock, and then turned south.

“So, how was the swim back? Any trouble?” Director Davis asked as he walked into the kitchen, passing a drooling Tristan along the way.

The teens looked at one another then all started talking at once.

The director laughed. “Okay, okay. Tristan, how about you tell me what happened.”

Tristan began from when they'd jumped overboard at Stromatolite City. The other teens, particularly Ryder and Rosina, couldn't help but interject at the more thrilling parts, like when they lured a dangerously armed murderous thug on a racing Jet Ski onto the ooid sand wave, when Rosina was bitten by a vicious man-eating iguana, and how they'd just barely escaped being seen and probably shot by swimming under swarms of sharks and dolphins.

“Well now, that
was
quite the adventure. I'm impressed. That was some pretty quick thinking for new campers and excellent use of your skills. Here you go. This should warm you up.”

Director Davis gave them each a giant bowl of hot chicken noodle soup and a tall glass of water. Tristan thought it was seriously the best soup, maybe food, he'd ever tasted. Though he was so hungry even his mother's cauliflower casserole would have tasted good. The room became exceptionally quiet except for the absurdly loud slurping of soup and noodles.

They heard a door slam in the marine lab office and Mr. M walked into the room. “Welcome back campers. Great to see you. Everyone okay?”

Their mouths full, the teens just nodded.

“They did a great job getting back on their own. Fantastic really,” Director Davis told him. “Did Rickerton see anything unusual or seem overly suspicious?”

Mr. M looked at the young campers. “Well . . . he did say he thought he saw something big with webbed feet dive off the dock when we were walking by. But I think I convinced him it was just a large pelican that hangs out there. It helped that Henry happened to be paddling around just off the dock. He also mentioned that he'd never seen marine life behave so strangely, especially sharks and dolphins. And that two of his colleagues seem to have mysteriously gone missing.”

“Did he say anything about his sunken and now also missing yacht?”

“No, nothing specific. But I can tell you he is not a happy man. I'd say more like furious, possibly dangerously so.”

The campers looked nervously at one another.

“How come he landed here?” Tristan asked.

“I think right now he is suspicious of everything and everyone in the Bahamas,” Mr. M answered. “He asked a lot of questions about our boats, who comes here, what we do. For the most part I told him the truth—just left out a few things.”

They heard the whine of a powerboat approaching the dock.

“Stay here while I see who it is,” Mr. M told them.

The Seasquirts and Director Davis crept up to the sliding glass door.

Seconds later Mr. M came back. “It's Coach Fred and Ms. Sanchez.”

While Director Davis was encouraging the campers to sit back down and have another bowl of soup, Coach Fred and Ms. Sanchez walked in, followed by Jade, Rory, and Rusty.

“Mission complete, sir,” Coach said to Director Davis.

“Yup, no one is going to find that yacht for a very, very long time . . . if ever,” Jade offered perkily.

“Excuse me, but what exactly did you do with the boat?” Tristan asked.

Director Davis looked at Coach Fred. “Be my guest.”

Coach beamed. “Well, my little camper friends, with a lot of help from a pod of pilot whales and numerous dolphins we put some air into the yacht to raise it off the bottom and then hauled it to the Tongue of the Ocean. Once there, a few more holes in the right spots and down it went. Mr. Rickerton's yacht is now resting quietly on the bottom in about 700 feet of water. A new hangout for the hagfish.”

“Whoa,” Tristan said.

“Excellent,” Ryder added.

“Too bad all that fancy stuff onboard went down with it,” Jade said.

“Ill gotten gains, my dear,” Ms. Sanchez told her.

“Do you think he'll come back to look for it?” Hugh asked.

“Oh, I am
sure
he will,” Director Davis said. “I'm also sure he'll spend a considerable amount of money searching for it as well as that wreck he's been looking for. I suspect our Mr. Rickerton is not one to give up
easily. He may find the yacht eventually, but there's no evidence linking us to what happened to it.”

While they continued to recap the events of the past twenty-four hours, Director Davis gave Jade, Rory, and Rusty some much appreciated soup and water.

Tristan was more tired than he could ever remember being. His body felt like lead and he swore every single muscle ached. He leaned back on the sofa, sinking into the soft cushions. He probably would have drifted happily off to dreamland except that there was something hard and scratchy stabbing him in the thigh. Then he remembered what it was. Tristan slid his legs out straight so he could wiggle his hand into his pocket. He pulled out a bumpy tan ball the size of a giant marble. It was coated in cemented sand like the stromatolites. He twirled it around in his fingers trying to figure out exactly what it was.

Sam and Hugh were sitting next to him on the couch.

“What's that?” Sam asked.

“I found it in the ooids. Part of what saved me from getting stuck in there. I was standing on something hard and this broke off.”

Tristan showed them the ball of hardened sand, rubbing his fingers over it. Grains fell away. Tristan tapped it on the edge of the coffee table and the thing split in half.

“What do you have there?” Director Davis asked, walking over to the three young teens.

Tristan looked up. “I don't know. Found it in that sand wave when we were in The Quicksands.” He was staring at one of the broken halves. It was just crusty, cemented sand grains shaped like a split walnut shell. He looked at the matching half, turned it over, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Whoa!”

He passed it to Director Davis.

“Whoa is right.”

“What is it?” Sam and Hugh asked at the same time.

“Well kids, I have a feeling our Mr. Rickerton is going to be madder than ever.”

Mr. M overheard their conversation. “Why is that?”

Director Davis passed the sand encrusted piece to Mr. M.

“Holy Moley! Tristan, I think you may have found a clue to the location of Rickerton's missing shipwreck.”

That drew the attention of everyone in the room. They gathered around to see what Mr. M was holding. He held up the half-sphere casing of cemented sand, turning it over to reveal the inside—a gleaming gold coin with Spanish markings.

21

RETURN TO SEA CAMP

W
ITH THE ADDITION OF THE THREE RESCUED
campers only one seat in the small plane remained empty. Coach Fred was once again their pilot, Ms. Sanchez the copilot. Just before takeoff Coach happily offered to do several death-defying aerial stunts on the way home. The campers' no thank-yous were even more ardent than before. After they'd buckled their seatbelts, Director Davis took the opportunity to try out a few new jokes on his captive and somewhat attentive audience. They weren't any better than his old ones.

Before boarding the plane, they all said their goodbyes to Mr. M and thanked him for his help. Tristan tried his best to show the lab manager exactly where he'd found the gold coin. But pinpointing the location
on a chart was not as easy as it seemed. He hadn't had a working tracking device with him and at the time he was seconds away from getting permanently stuck in a giant sand wave as a murderous thug with a gun raced toward them.

Mr. M promised to keep them informed as he began a quiet exploration of The Quicksands in search of the wreck of the
Santa Viento
. Director Davis offered to send a few senior campers to help out. Of course, Tristan and the other Seasquirts were quick to volunteer, but Director Davis turned them down flat. He said they'd done far more in their first week at camp than some campers ever do. Plus they still had a lot to learn, needed more training, and didn't actually have their parents' permission for that sort of thing yet.

The plane took off, gained altitude, and leveled off for the flight back to Cranky Key. Hugh leaned over to Tristan who was sitting across the aisle from him. “Cool that you get to keep the coin. How much do you think it's worth?”

“No idea,” Tristan said. “Wonder how much the whole shipwreck is worth?”

“Director Davis, sir,” Hugh shouted forward. “How much do you think the shipwreck is worth? If they find it.”

Director Davis released his seatbelt and walked back to where Hugh, Tristan, and Sam were sitting. “I don't know Hugh, but you can be sure if J.P. Rickerton is searching for it, it's worth a lot.”

“What happens to the gold and stuff if Mr. M finds it?” Sam asked.

“Well, it's going to be a joint mission so that if we find it and Mr. M stakes a claim, we'll split the proceeds. After the Bahamian government takes their cut, of course.”

“You mean Sea Camp will get some of the gold?” Tristan asked.

“That's right. It could fund what we do for the next, oh, I don't know—like forever!”

“Wicked. How long do you think it will take to find it?”

Director Davis shook his head. “I don't know. Could be a few days, maybe weeks or even years—
if
we find it that is. Depends on how lucky we get. The coin is an excellent start. My bet is that the wreck is buried somewhere in The Quicksands under all those ooids.”

“What if this creepy Rickerton guy finds out you're looking for it?” Sam asked.

“We're going to do our best to keep our search very quiet,” Director Davis said turning to Tristan. “That means keeping that gold coin a secret for now, right?”

Tristan nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Once we've found it and make an official claim, Rickerton will be out of luck.”

“Do you think he'll go back to the lab?” Hugh asked.

“Maybe, but I bet he'll be pretty busy searching for his yacht and the wreck—in the wrong places of course.”

“What about the guys on the Jet Skis? When they're found they'll tell him about us and Coach Fred's boat.”

“We'll be long gone by then, without a trace. Okay
you three, enough questions. You should try to nap like the others here. I have a feeling we're going to get quite a reception when we land.”

Tristan looked around the plane. He hadn't noticed but the other campers were sound asleep. He closed his eyes thinking he'd never be able to doze off with the noise of the plane and all the excitement of the last twenty-four hours. Within minutes he was fast asleep.