LITMIR.BIZ

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dirty, much too hairy, and smelled like rotting fish.” A ripple of laughter spread throughout the kitchen. “Among them was two of our kind and they talked in a language the people could understand. They said the white men wanted the furs of the otter. Our people were cautious, but they were also eager to make a trade for they were fully aware of the great treasures these men possessed. The traders made a bargain and did not keep it. This was a great insult to our chief and people. Some of the warriors snuck up on the ship that night to take what they were promised, but a battle broke out and many were wounded. Several of the warriors died and this caused the spirit of the sea to become angry and a great wind began to blow — it was so strong our people could hardly paddle back to the land. In the morning the ship was gone and the people thought the winds had taken it away. But soon things like wooden boxes, rope, and bales of otter fur started to wash up on our shores. Then my people found the camp of the white men and learned that their ship had sunk after striking the hidden rocks out by the point — the ones that stretch towards the sky like fingers from the sea. Over time many have tried to find the sunken ship but failed. Then about twenty years ago, some white people came to search too, but it was never found — that is until the day I called the salvage diver to come and untangle my fishing net and he found the anchor.”

      “Oh, you were the fisherman!” I said, surprised. “Do you know what happened to the crewmen who survived the sinking of the Intrepid?”

      “Yes, Chief Noomki left the white men to camp not far from the village. The two Indian boys aboard the ship spoke on their behalf and the people took pity on them. The one called Loki stayed in our village long after the white men sailed away with a different ship. He married the chief’s daughter — my great great grandmother.” Chief Charles opened a small cabinet and removed a glass mason jar and gave it to Captain Hunter to look at. “Do you remember — I told you many small things have washed ashore or been found, like these glass beads.”

      “Aha,” said Captain Hunter excitedly. I noticed the others sat up too. “These are definitely trade beads from China. They appear to be a type known as Fort Vancouver and were probably for necklaces. They’re a single colour and would have been cut from a glass tube with six sides … when it was new the facets would have sparkled.” He opened the jar and poured some out. “You can tell they’re hand polished because there are slight variations in size and shape.” I picked up a few and rolled the little pearl-like beads around in my hand.

      “During the fur trade they would have been strung together and sold by the fathom.”

      “A fathom?” I asked.

      “Yes, a string nearly two metres long.” After the captain closed up the jar the chief passed him a shoe box. When he lifted off the lid, lying in a bed of cotton were several pieces of broken china. I noticed how each was decorated with blue lines and figures.

      “That’s a cobalt blue glaze, right? It was supposedly first used a thousand years ago,” I announced. Wow! That’s cool … I actually remembered some of the boring stuff Aunt Beatrix told me. The captain seemed impressed.

      “Good observation, Peggy. Maybe I should pair you with Scott, our pottery and ceramics expert.” I wasn’t sure if I was so keen about the idea of being stuck looking at broken teacups … it sure wasn’t any fun back at home. Nope, bones were my thing.

      “Thank you for your hospitality today, Chief Charles. Now if I may, I ask for your permission to explore the traditional waters of the Kwakwaka’wakw to find the sunken Intrepid.”

      “You have our permission to search our traditional waters, Dr. Hunter,” Chief Charles replied.

      When we left the chief’s house I paused for a moment. It was a magical moment there on the shore, looking out towards the sea. I thought of the people who once stood in the same place looking out to the same ocean, and how the waves that washed up on the shore now had done so two hundred years ago and two thousand years before that.

      “Captain, when you find it how will you know that the ship is the Intrepid?” I asked as we boarded the Sea Weed.

      “That’s a good question. We know the Intrepid had three sails — something the chief’s story just confirmed.” That’s right, I recalled — three small white clouds. “Some other things we’ll be looking for are a box-like hull and six cannons. Most early trading ships had at least ten guns.”

      Captain Hunter steered the Sea Weed away from the shore and towards the coordinates he was given to find the anchor. With a good feeling about what we would find I sat on the deck with Captain Whittaker’s journal. Now that we were at Tlatskwala Island I wanted to catch up to the part in the journal when the Intrepid arrived too.

      May 13th, 1812

      At last success is upon the Intrepid and her crew. We have traded along the coast of New Caledonia and thus far acquired over eight hundred pelts of the finest grade. My crew — once agitated and dangerously close to mutiny — are content and put in fourteen to sixteen hours’ work a day.

      It is a relief to see even Mister Lockhart is now usefully occupied in trading with the local people. There were some near disasters, but it appears he is acquiring the skills of a trader. While he is still aggressive in his approach there are fewer dangerous indiscretions, and he rarely disturbs the congenial interactions of the crew or the friendly nature of the aboriginals.

      Intrepid’s box-like hull and narrow stern enable us to maximize our profits by carrying the largest cargo with the smallest crew necessary. But our ship’s hold is nearly full now and should we acquire many more pelts we may have to start storing them on the deck. We are equipped with three masts, which increases the ship’s agility and speed significantly and will thereby shorten our journey across the Pacific Ocean to the Orient. The one serious shortcoming this grand ship has is that we are but lightly armed with only six guns — meaning we are not ideally suited for conflict in the unlikely event that one should arise.

      I informed Mister Lockhart that we are near our maximum load and should soon make ready to sail for China. He is eager to make one more trade. The improved conditions aboard this ship have so affected us all that I agreed to his plan — mainly because we must make one final stop at the top of Vancouver’s Island to wood and water for the long voyage ahead.

      Our last trade was with the Tsaxis people — a very pleasant tribe. Loki and Peter were able to learn from them that there is a village a day’s journey north. They believe it will make a most profitable final stop. We are now on route.

      Captain James Whittaker

      “I can’t go with you?” I was crushed but did my best not to whine like Dr. Sanchez expected I would. I looked over at Amanda for support, but she only shrugged. “I thought that visibility is good — perfect diving conditions.”

      “That’s right, it is. It’s just that we don’t know what’s down there. Dr. Sanchez thinks we need to ensure the area is safe before taking a child — I mean a young person — down, and I agree.” It figures that Dr. Sanchez was the one who wanted me out of the way. He’d been especially mean ever since the toilet got busted. I think he suspected I had something to do with it.

      “Don’t worry, Peggy, you’ll get plenty of opportunity to dive once we know what’s down there,” Amanda said sweetly just before hopping over the side of the boat.

      Disappointment washed over me as I watched the last of the crew disappear beneath the waves. A short while later, still in a foul mood, I heard the radio start to crackle and a disjointed voice calling through the static. I snapped up the handset and pressed the talk button.

      “Hello?” I shouted to be heard clearly. The voice on the other side was faint and fuzzy so I turned some dials to make it come in clearer.

      “Hello, is this Cap … ter?” crackled a man’s voice.

      “No,” I shouted back. “This is Peggy Henderson. Captain Hunter is diving right now.”

      “Fantast …! Did … find it?”

      “Find it? If you mean the Intrepid — with

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